In Safe Hands
by nedlovesyou
Summary: '"I'm glad, you know," his gentle voice pulls her away from thoughts that are threatening to steal her mind away. She turns to him, eyebrows furrowed in question as to what exactly he means. He adds simply, "I'm glad that you're alive."' Stefan/Caroline.


**So I watched the first season of TVD on and off, and I still haven't even seen some of the episodes, but from what I have seen I can honestly say that these two have totally snagged my heart. I'm going to be a faithful viewer this season and I'm working on catching up on episodes I've missed. That being said, forgive me for any OOC-ness. **

**Basically I spent almost the entire episode of 2x01 wishing that Stefan would visit Caroline in the hospital, but alas that never happened and I whipped up this little ficlet to cope.**

**Enjoy!

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Her heart beats steadily as she sleeps, the heart monitor signaling every constant beat of it with a beep that echoes throughout the empty room. As her chest rises and falls with every breath she takes, a tendril of golden hair falls over face and becomes wrapped in her eyelashes. If she were awake she'd lift a hand to her forehead and flick the strand behind her ear before a second passed, but her hand instead remains hanging over the side of the bed and her resting mind cannot be bothered by the wisp of hair.

She's never looked so peaceful, he thinks.

He'd arrived not a minute ago - somewhere around 10:30, long after visiting hours had ended. He's still not sure why he's here, eyes tracing every intricate curve of her face as she rests, but he remembers Elena saying something about wishing she had visited her when she had the chance to and having the strangest urge to come here after they'd said goodbye and Elena had returned home.

A clump of dirt from outside that he'd dragged into the room on his boots has collected on the floor beneath his feet, crumbling into mere grains as he shifts his footing to lean toward her. He grasps the tuft of hair between his fingertips and gently pulls it off her face, placing it back behind her ear and pulling his hand back to his side. He doesn't think much of the gesture, the only thought of it that flashes across his mind being that even though she isn't awake to do anything about it, even a sleeping Caroline wouldn't want to have a hair out of place.

As she continues sleeping soundly he contemplates leaving, but amidst his consideration he can faintly hear the heart monitor start to beat at an increasingly more rapid pace. Before he knows it, she's suddenly stirring around in the bed and her eyes begin to flutter open.

Upon opening her eyes, she tries her hardest to adjust to the bright contrast of the room she's in and as the haziness of her dreams fades away with every second that passes, the shadow of a person standing a few feet away from her bed becomes more pronounced. She sits up quickly with a startled gasp of fear, an action she immediately she regrets, for the muscles in her neck scream in painful retaliation and her head starts pounding at the feeling of what seems to her like thousands of tiny butterflies darting rapidly throughout her head. Her eyes are still glued to the shadow when it suddenly blurs and not even a moment passes before she can feel a pair of arms wrap around her shoulders, slowly lowering her back down to the pillow.

"Easy there," a voice says, and although her head is still spinning she's pretty sure she recognizes it.

"Stefan?" she speaks his name roughly, her voice coming out in a raspy whisper.

"Just relax," he whispers back, and then she's sure that it's him.

"What are you doing here?" her voice comes out clearer this time. He releases his grip on her once he feels she's safe and she watches him as he reaches behind his back to pull a chair toward the bed.

"I just wanted to see how you were," he responds, his tone lined with the same seriousness that she's familiar with, as he falls back into the chair. Caroline's eyebrows furrow, and she carefully turns to the bedside table to glance at the analog clock that rests upon it.

"Visiting hours ended three hours ago," she deduces, turning back around to face him with the same care as before. "How did you get in?"

He just smiles, lips still closed tightly but corners of his mouth tugged upward, and there's a glimmer in his eye as if he's keeping his own little secret.

"Nurses can't resist my charm," he says, and she laughs even though she's not sure she's ever even seen him really smirk before and the sight takes a little getting used to at first. A quiet moment passes between them, one that's not entirely awkward and even, oddly, a little bit comfortable. The remnant of smile is still present on her lips when looks away from him, and she can still feel the heat of his gaze upon her.

"So, how are you?" he asks softly, and she lifts her eyes to look back at him.

"I'm fabulous," she says lightly, sarcasm lining her voice as she smiles and adds, "can't you tell?"

His lips twist into a smile again, and he thinks to himself for a moment that he loves this side of her. He knows that she's insecure, and bossy, and apprehensive, and a tad superficial when it comes to things like fashion, but he also knows that behind it all there's this girl that's right in front of him. Granted, he doesn't know her _that _well - most of what he does know about her is either because of things that Elena has told him or just his general ability to read people - so he doesn't see this side of her too often, but part of him cherishes the moments that he does.

Her eyes drop to the smile that still rests on his lips, but when she looks back up again she sees that his eyes, dark with concern, are inquisitive. She can feel the smile melt off of her face as she averts her eyes to look at her surroundings.

"I don't like this place," she says softly, her voice coming out in a whisper. "It's too… _cold_."

He knows what she means. The walls, painted in a coat of neon white that's worn and chipping in certain places, are too bare to provide any sort of hope or comfort to those that are confined within them, like Caroline. The whole likeness of it seems odd to him, like she's just out of place for some reason - like she doesn't belong here. That's because she doesn't belong here, he decides. She belongs where walls are covered with photographs, where the metal frame of the bed she lays in doesn't tremble every time she tries to shift her weight and the drawer of her bedside table contains something other than bloodstained clothes.

"At least you're alive," he speaks the thought aloud when it comes to him.

She doesn't say anything in response, just nods subtly in agreement as she becomes involuntarily lost in thoughts and memories of the accident. Shivers still run down her spine when the thought that she could have actually died flashes across her mind.

"I'm glad, you know," his gentle voice pulls her away from the thoughts that are threatening to steal her mind away. She turns to him, eyebrows furrowed in question as to what exactly he means. He adds simply, "I'm glad that you're alive."

She smiles, a strange feeling buzzing about in her chest as the statement catches her off guard.

"Really?" her eyebrows raise, and she laughs airily, "Stefan Salvatore cares that I'm alive…" her voice trails off into a soft whisper for a moment before she adds, "Does this mean that you and I might actually, kind of be considered friends of some sort?"

"If you want to put a label on it," he shrugs, before letting the smallest hint of a laugh that's been bubbling in his chest to escape him. She smiles freely, a glimmer in her eye that he notices when the light hits her at a certain angle. He takes a breath and adds quietly, "We're friends."

With the smile still shining on her face, she lets her eyes flutter closed as her head sinks deeper into the pillow. From the way her lips remain curved in a slight smile and the way that every other muscle in her body that he can see remain relaxed, he can sense exactly what she's feeling - relief, peace, comfort, serenity, love. It's the strangest thing he's ever felt before, the airy lightness he feels in his chest when he thinks that maybe he's partly responsible for making her feel this way.

But when his eyes trail over the bags underneath her eyes he stands to say, "I should let you go back to sleep," and the lightness is replaced with an indescribably unfamiliar heaviness at the thought of leaving.

"Do I look tired?" her eyes fly open and lock with his.

"Yes," he answers honestly.

Her cheeks color, and a classic pout spreads across her lips before she sinks lower into the bed sheets and says, "Maybe you should."

He exhales a laugh, looking down to his feet before turning on his heel to leave. He's just about to reach for the handle of the door when her voice stops him.

"Thank you for coming to see me," her words echo, and for a moment he's frozen. He can hear the honesty in her voice, but there's an underlying tone of vulnerability as if she doesn't want him to leave her alone in this cold place that she doesn't like.

He can't bring himself to look at her.

"You'll be okay," he whispers over his shoulder.

He turns the bronze doorknob and pulls the door open, sliding past the doorframe and out into the corridor. The door clicks when he closes it, though he tries his best to be gentle with it, and the sound reverberates loudly off the walls. When silence surrounds him again, he steals a glance through the window as she pulls the woolen blanket over her shoulder and succumbs to sleep.

He's not sure that with Katherine around, anyone can truly be protected - but that doesn't stop him from, as he looks at her through the glass, being glad that for the time being she's safe.


End file.
